


Ten and a Half Weeks

by danniperson



Series: How To [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Peter & MJ Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5739382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danniperson/pseuds/danniperson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At twelve years old, Peter and Mary Jane have suffered a lot. Now they must learn to lean on each other and the people who care about them in order to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten and a Half Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up to How to Care for Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. I wanted to touch a little more on how Peter and MJ dealt with what happened to them, but it didn't quite fit into the previous story.

The waiting room outside of Dr. Hamilton's office was meant to be homey and comforting.  The furniture was all from thrift stores, no plastic cushions, but real soft cushions covered in faded blue and green fabric.  A love seat, couch, and several armchairs all strategically placed.  End tables and a coffee table in faded brown wood.  There was carpeting rather than wood flooring, cream colored, the walls painted eggshell and decorated with paintings of meadows and ponds and sailboats and sunlight.  The music that played overhead was quiet and soothing, and it made MJ's skin itch.

 

She sat beside Peter on the love seat.  There was only one other patient in the room, a brunette girl in her late teens asleep on the couch.  Peter had the paper in his lap, folded over to the crossword.  He was normally a wiz with it, but he was tapping his pen against his mouth and hadn't filled in any of the words.  MJ understood.  She flipped through fashion magazines for something to do with her hands and something besides this room to look at.  The pages dented in her firm grip and a twitch in her hand ripped several pages.  She uncrossed her legs for the fifth time and twisted around on the couch, stretching them out to one side and slumping into her seat.

 

MJ's mom and little sister had dropped her off, but MJ hadn't wanted them with her.  They were still waiting outside, wandering around the block for lunch and light shopping until MJ was ready to be picked up.  Steve and Tony had dropped Peter off, and MJ figured he had the same feelings she did.  Steve and Tony would both be here if Peter wanted them there.  Maybe they had only adopted Peter very recently, but they really seemed to love him and were great at this parenting thing so far.  Much better than MJ's parents, and they'd had all twelve years of her life to get it right.

 

The office door opened and MJ perked up, but it was Dr. Hamilton's partner's office.  MJ sank back down as "Takeda, Jennifer," was called in.  The other patient half ran out of the door and slammed it.  The secretary offered them a reassuring smile but Peter didn't glance up and MJ felt vaguely nauseous.  

 

"I think I'm going to go. I'll call my mom..." MJ said, scrambling to her feet.

 

Peter shot a hand out and tugged her back down.  "C'mon, MJ.  This is gonna be the easy part."  His tone was light, but his eyes were tight and she knew as well as he did that he was trying to convince himself just as much as her.  He tried to pull his hand away, but it stuck and by the time he pried his hand away, he'd left sticky residue behind.  Peter's face burned red and MJ giggled, wiping at her arm.  Peter covered his face with both hands, groaning in embarrassment that turned into a laugh of his own.

 

A bald boy in his early teens was shuffling out of Dr. Hamilton's office and the secretary called, "Parker, Peter."

 

"Oh my God," he squeaked.  "No, nope, my dads are - "

 

"Go on, Peter," MJ said, giving him a gentle nudge.  

 

"Yeah...yeah, okay," Peter said, taking a few deep breaths.  He turned to MJ, seeking, and found the strength to stand and walk with his head held high.  MJ liked to think she'd offered some sort of mental support, but really she felt like he was doing this more for her sake than anything.  If she was going to get help, Peter had to get help.  

 

How bad could it be?  Dr. Hamilton had been Harry's shrink for years.  Harry griped about having to go to his sessions, but there was no real heat to it.  And if Norman Osborn thought Dr. Hamilton was good enough for his kid, then that meant he had to be a good doctor.  MJ was lucky Steve and Tony offered to pay for her sessions.  She knew for a fact her mom couldn't afford to send her to a cheap therapist, let alone a good one.  

 

* * *

 

 

Three and a half weeks ago, Madeline Watson left her husband.  She packed her bags when he was passed out drunk and took her daughters to the Stacy residence where they were welcomed and given a place to stay in safety for the following few days.  Madeline left Phillip a note, telling him that he would never again touch her daughters and warning him that she would be pressing charges against him for everything he had done.

 

The third time was the charm, MJ thought, watching in bewilderment as her mother stuffed clothes into a suitcase.  The first two times she had begged her mother to leave, Madeline had steadfastly refused.  Phillip was her father, Madeline reprimanded.  He was their family, and they would not abandon him.  He needed them.  However twisted it was, to this day MJ felt a fresh wave of shame whenever she thought of running away.

 

This time MJ was strong.  Peter and his dads had given her that much.  When her dad passed out after a night of beer and screaming at the TV (so loud that Gayle was hiding in her closet, crying quietly, while MJ sat in bed, gnawing on her nails), MJ confronted her mother, made her listen.  MJ showed her the scar on the inside of her elbow from a cigarette.  Told her mother how she learned to do makeup to hide the bruises.  Told her what was in store for Gayle when she was older and a more interesting target.  Tearfully sobbed out the entire truth of what Phillip had done to her until Madeline collapsed against her daughter and wept.

 

Madeline might be scared of her husband, but she loved her daughters.  She loved her daughters more than she loved herself, and it was the last straw.  They had a new apartment now, always thick with tension and fear.  If Phillip ever came for them, it would be too easy to break in.  At least they had George Stacy on their side.  He called every morning and every night to check up on them, and there was always an officer lurking around their street.  MJ had friends in higher places, but she couldn't tell her mother that her friend Peter Parker was Spider-Man, or that his dads were Captain America and Iron Man.  Madeline and Gayle might breathe a little easier if she could.

 

* * *

 

 

Four weeks ago, MJ stood in the elevator of Stark Tower, heading up to the fifty first floor.  She hadn't realized how little she'd seen Peter until then.  Two months since the incident with her dad, and MJ's friends had been very supportive.  They had all come together to get her out of her house as much as possible.  Gwen was always inviting her to sleepovers and study dates.  Liz took her to get manicures and pedicures, and sometimes frozen yogurt or milkshakes.  Harry took her out to dinner at fancy restaurants and sent his driver away so that he could walk her home.  (It occurred to her that he could have let the driver drop her off, but that walking together would take more time and the driver was always waiting at MJ's apartment when they got there.)

 

Peter, though.  Peter always had somewhere to be, when they were alone.  Always rushing off to class or to grab a book he'd forgotten.  In groups, he stayed, but never spoke to her directly.  It was always to the group.  His eyes would skip over her, never lingering.  He'd laugh oddly at her jokes and become distant at every hesitant mention of her situation.  Peter had saved her.  He was her hero.  He really was just busy, she would tell herself.  He wouldn't avoid her.  He was her friend.  He was Spider-Man.

 

Only he had been avoiding her.  She could see it in his face.  Something big was in the air, thick and heavy.  Resignation and determination hardened his brown eyes.  Whatever excitement she'd entertained in regards to this visit dropped to the floor and stole her warmth.  MJ didn't feel very welcome, though he'd extended this invitation.  She didn't want to be here anymore.  Whatever he wanted, it was nothing good.

 

"Does this mean we're still friends?" she asked quietly.  She had to know before she walked inside.

 

"'Course we are," he said to the floor and shuffled his feet.  He invited her in and sat in an armchair (the best to keep his distance).  MJ sank into the nearest couch, trapping her hands between her knees.  

 

Peter told her a story.  He launched into it without prologue, without warning.  As a child, he'd been a victim of bullying.  He hadn't had any friends until Harry, but there had been one boy he'd thought was his friend.  Eight year old Peter had impressed twelve year old Skip with his smarts.  Skip called him Einstein and offered flattery and fun.  Aunt May had been overjoyed.  She had been so worried about him not having friends.  Only Skip wasn't a friend.  Skip invited Peter to his house one day.  Skip touched and kissed Peter, and Peter had been too scared to say no.  Afterwards, he found the courage to tell his aunt and uncle, who had pressed charges.  No one believed his story.  Skip was a good kid with a grandfather who had been a well respected member of the police force.  No one believed it, so none of them put any real effort into the case.  Skip walked free.  

 

Tears were falling from his distant eyes, his voice just as hollow and lost in the past.  MJ's hands were clamped over her mouth and her friend was blurry through her own tears.  She sucked in deep breaths to quiet herself, to keep from sobbing, because the story wasn't over.

 

When Uncle Ben and Aunt May died, Peter was sent to the group home.  There were plenty of staff members, but Mr. Parsons was the night manager during the week. He was a mean, cranky old man, but Peter hadn't thought he was anything more than that, not at first.  Then he heard crying and begging and knew Mr. Parsons was beating the other boys.  But it was more than just beatings, Peter one day learned.  Mr. Parsons came into Peter's bed one night, kissing and touching like Skip had.  This time Peter said no, he'd pushed and shoved, but Mr. Parsons hadn't let him go until he was good and ready.

 

Other boys had it worse, Peter admitted miserably.  What had happened to him hadn't been so bad, by comparison.  So he'd put a stop to it.  He'd donned his Spider-Man attire and stopped Mr. Parsons from hurting Calvin.  When Black Widow showed up, the other boys found the strength to stand up and speak.  Mr. Parsons was being charged and many of the boys were going to testify against him.  They'd asked Peter to.  Steve and Tony were urging him to think about it.  But Peter had always worked hard at not thinking about the things that happened to him.

 

So MJ told Peter her story.  With her face buried in her legs and her arms wrapped tightly around herself, she told him everything.  Her dad had always been violent, but it had gotten worse over the past few years.  He had forced himself on her mother a few times, and twice he made MJ take off her clothes so that he could see how much of a woman she was becoming.  He wanted to feel.  She had been so grateful he wasn't hurting her, she just let it happen, and it hadn't bothered her until later on.  It had been on her eleventh and twelfth birthdays, and she suspected she'd be in for the same treatment when she turned thirteen.  She wondered how long it would be before he did more.  

 

Peter sat with her on the couch and held her.  She hadn't trusted herself to unwind her arms to hug him back, but she leaned into the contact to encourage it.  They cried together and kept holding on, even when they were done.

 

"You should testify," MJ mumbled into his shoulder.  "Don't let him get away with it."

 

"I know," Peter whispered.  "You should talk to your mom."

 

* * *

 

 

Five weeks ago, Peter was helping Steve fix dinner.  Steve cut up an onion.  Peter measured rice and water in the rice cooker.  FRIDAY played music for them.  Eventually one song ended and did not lead into another and Peter tsked as he retrieved the thawed out chicken from the fridge.  "What gives, FRIDAY?"

 

"Peter," Steve said.  His tone was careful in a way that made Peter want to bolt.  "Have you thought about whether or not you want to testify against Parsons?"

 

Yep, he so did not want to have this conversation.  Peter swallowed, and it was a block of ice dropping from his throat into his chest and stomach, spreading its cold down to his fingers and toes.  He shivered, rubbing his neck and cheek against one shoulder.  He could feel Mr. Parsons - "I still have time."

 

Steve frowned.  "Not a lot.  Tony and I have been looking into good psychiatrists in the area.  Maybe if you talked to someone, it won't be so hard."

 

"Maybe," Peter shrugged stiffly and stared at the chicken.  Why was he holding the chicken?  Salt!  Salt, they should...they needed salt for...And pepper.  Maybe some of that herb blend...

 

"You have really good friends, you know," Steve said.  "Harry and Gwen, even Mary Jane, after everything she's been through.  You know they would all be willing to listen and none of them would judge.  And you have Tony and me, you know that, don't you?  You're not alone, Peter."

 

"Mhm.  Sure," Peter said.  "You know, I should...I never finished my homework.  Can't believe I forgot, better go...do that."

 

* * *

 

 

Six weeks ago, Gwen was crossing her arms, looking at Peter with such displeasure he wanted to turn and walk away.  She had never given him that look before.  What had he done wrong?  Felicia had flirted with him, but he hadn't flirted back.  Really.  She was kinda cute, but not like Gwen was.  No one was Gwen-cute but Gwen.

 

"Why are you avoiding MJ?" she demanded.  

 

"I..."  He wanted to say he wasn't avoiding her, but looking back on it, yeah.  Maybe he was.  It hadn't been intentional.  "I don't know."

 

"I'm sure you don't."  Angered heat in her blue eyes and it didn't belong there, and not aimed towards him.  Peter shuffled his feet and looked beside her face rather than at it.  Gwen scoffed.  

 

"I don't.  I'm not...trying to.  It's just...weird," Peter offered, and that was the wrong thing to say.  Gwen pursed her lips, shifting her stance ever so slightly away from him.  The expression of shocked disgust was more than he could bear.  Guilt ate away at his gut, and he didn't know why he was acting the way he was.  He really hadn't given it much thought, other than the sheer panic induced whenever he was around MJ.  

 

"I know it's a...tough situation," Gwen said icily.  "But imagine how hard it is on MJ.  You know, I really thought better of you, Peter."

 

Peter watched her go as she stalked away from him.  He let Flash shove him against the lockers without a word of protest.  He deserved his treatment.  Deserved Gwen's ire.  He hadn't been a very good friend to MJ.  And he didn't know where to start.

 

* * *

 

 

Ten and a half weeks ago, Mary Jane laid in bed with Gayle.  It was a twin bed, a tight squeeze, but they managed.  Their dad was making gruff promises to their mother.  How sorry he was, how grateful she'd stood by his side, and how he'd never hurt her again.  He loved her and the girls so much.  Their bedroom door closed and they listened to their parents make love.  Gayle clung to her and fell into fitful sleep after an hour or so.  MJ stared up at her ceiling, exhaustion weighing her down, but fear kept her blood pumping hard enough for sleep to evade her.  She wouldn't get a good night's sleep for another week, when Gwen would invite her to stay the night for the first time.

 

* * *

 

 

Ten and a half weeks ago, Peter went to sleep with a smile on his face.  He had a home now, and parents.  He would get to be Spider-Man (under strict guidelines, but still.)  Everything was going so well.  His first dreams of the night were good.  Peter woke to pee in the middle of the night, and when he went back to sleep he dreamt of Mary Jane.  He dreamt that her house was on fire and she was running out of it, chased by her dad.  And Peter was running to help her, but Skip and Parsons were on his tail and he kept running right on past her.  Running and running and running until he woke up gasping, face wet with tears.  

 

* * *

 

 

MJ smiled at him when Peter walked out of Dr. Hamilton's office.  "Watson, Mary Jane," said the secretary.  Peter had hedged the subject for most of the session and eventually blurted out the whole story with ten minutes left to go.  There had been no comfort in telling a stranger.  Telling Steve and Tony, and even MJ, had been better than this.  Less embarrassing.  "Good luck," he whispered as she passed by.  

 

He hoped the next meeting would be better.  If he was going to testify against Mr. Parsons, he was going to need all the help he could get.  At least MJ was going through something similar.  MJ was already having to talk to cops and lawyers about what she'd gone through, now that they were pressing charges against Phillip Watson.  Still she was there for him, and he knew he could rely on her.  His chest ached and his gut twisted in self hatred.  Peter should have been there for her all along.

 

Peter called Steve as he flopped back onto the love seat.  His pops answered on the first ring.  "Hey.  I'm done, but I'm going to wait here for MJ, okay?" 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another sequel, How to Go Green for Beginners, has been posted, as well (the first of eight chapters). It's more centered on Natasha and Bruce, but Steve, Tony, and Peter also play a big role in it.


End file.
